Either from my sons or from the convention, I’ve come down with a wicked cold.  All week, I’ve been knocked flat by this thing, and I have way too much to do to be out of commission for an entire week.  I have important emails that need to be written, and a couple of interviews that I want to put together, but I truly haven’t felt like doing any of it.

I despise being sick.  I’d rather be beaten with a large stick than have a cold or the flu.  I can’t stand feeling like I’m not myself.  Normally, I can push through a cold and just ignore, but the last couple of times I’ve gotten sick, I’ve been overwhelmed by it.  I’m not sure if I’m just getting older or if maybe all the stress of the last couple of years has weakened me, but I definitely don’t have the constitution I once had.

Hopefully, I’ll get better in a day or two.  Until then, I’m gonna watch a little more TV and play a little more Farmville.  As cool as that might sound, I’d much rather be focusing on the work I need to get done.

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I’m a mutt, really, but a big part of my mutt-ness is Irish.  My family never really embraced our heritage because it was no big deal.  Most people in East Tennessee are Scots-Irish, so it was never anything special until I went away to college.

When I was an undergraduate, my closest friends were Hispanic-Navajo-Irish-American, Vietnamese-American, German-American, African-Irish-American, Scots-Irish-American, and British American.  Being around such diversity made me appreciate my own heritage a little more, and I studied a little of the history of Ireland.  I’m not a scholar by any stretch, and my understanding of Irish history is more like a faint mist than anything solid, but I’m proud of that part of my lineage.

I’ll leave it to others to debate the complexities of St. Patrick’s Day.  I’m not interested in unraveling the centuries of turmoil and oppression that have plagued the island.  I am interested in healing old wounds and reconciling old schisms.  On St. Patrick’s Day, everyone wishes they were Irish, and not many other cultures have a day devoted just to them.  Those of us with Irish blood should hold ourselves high and feel proud on this day.  We have a tremendous cultural history and long-standing traditions as teachers, firefighters, police officers, writers, artists, and musicians.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone.  “May you live as long as you want and never want as long as you live.”

www.thirdaxe.com

One of the things I despised about graduate school was the pettiness.  Everyone there, myself included, was so desperate to prove their intelligence and their ability that we had no sense of camaraderie or community.  Most of my professors were even worse than the students.  Most had long given up their authenticity and had settled into comfortable positions of stifled creativity.  I left graduate school in Memphis feeling like I was a talentless wannabe who had no voice worth sharing.  Now, as an educator, I can honestly say that graduate school for me was the opposite of what education should be.  Instead of bringing out my best, it tried to snuff out my spirit.

Last weekend, I returned to Memphis as a published novelist, albeit an independent, with two books on the market, and I was surrounded by other writers, artists, musicians, and creative people.  At the convention, we shared ideas, hung out, laughed, cut up, played jokes, and had fun.  Sure, there were moments of pettiness and occasional pockets of jealousy, but those were the exception.  For the most part, every convention I’ve attended has been a celebration of creativity and art that leaves me feeling rejuvenated.  By far, the majority of other writers I’ve met are supportive and encouraging, and at nearly every show, I’ve shared ideas and learned something about the craft and business of writing.

That’s why I love conventions.  They give me something that graduate school never did — a sense of community.  Eleven years ago, I left Memphis with a broken spirit and a crushed self-esteem.  Sunday, I left with a feeling that I’m doing what I’m meant to do, and that feeling was a much better, much healthier state of mind.  One day, I may finally let go of my anger and pain from what graduate school did to me, but for now, I’ll settle for this feeling.  Life is beautiful.

www.thirdaxe.com